


Kingdom of Crows: The Lost Knight

by Esselle



Series: Kingdom of Crows [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Demonic Possession, Happy Ending, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Non-Chronological, Royalty, Sexual Content, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8751505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/pseuds/Esselle
Summary: ' "There is no way to reclaim him," the demon whispered, fading. "Nothing except the greatest sacrifice will save him now. And even then, it will destroy you." And it was gone.Kageyama stared at the spot, blood rushing in his ears. Then the tired king picked up his sword, pulled himself to his feet, and began to walk again. He would sacrifice whatever it took, no matter the cost.He would bring Hinata back.'--If blood begets blood, then to what lengths will love go to reclaim what has been lost?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a Tumblr prompt fill: "Hinata gets possessed by a demon/evil spirit. Kageyama has to go after him." It got a bit out of hand...
> 
> \--
> 
> Remember when the darkness wasn't all you had to see  
> Remember when a part of you still hoped for what could be  
> Well I got this suit of armor and a sword I need to swing  
> [Wake, wake, wake up child](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5WIGwstdq4)

"Your Majesty, you can't!" Yachi said— _shrieked,_ more like. The other three men in the room stared at her, shocked. She went bright pink, but didn't stop speaking. "You can't go after him. It's too dangerous. I've…" Her whole face paled, and she looked like her next words pained her greatly. "I've seen things. Terrible things, in the water…"

Kageyama frowned deeply, tapping his fingers on the armrests of his wooden throne. His seer was not known to be wrong, especially when it came to water divination—but he had known this would be dangerous. He was willing to risk it.

He would risk anything to bring Hinata back.

"She's right," Yamaguchi said quietly. He appeared calm, but the mage was clutching his staff so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. "What happens if you don't come back?"

"Then I know my kingdom will be in very good hands," Kageyama said, looking around at the other three.

"You speak of abandoning your people so easily," the last person in the room said, finally speaking up. Tsukishima had been silent for most of their discussion, but now he stared Kageyama down, even as Yamaguchi sighed and Yachi whipped her head back and forth between them, eyes wide.

Kageyama narrowed his eyes. "I'm not abandoning anyone."

"If you _die,"_ Tsukishima said, "that's exactly what you'll be doing."

They never got along, never had, and probably never would. Fully half of all court meetings were guaranteed to be Tsukishima disagreeing with the king. This was why he was Kageyama's advisor.  

Yachi let out a tiny squeak as Kageyama stood from the throne. "Do you truly, even with that cold heart of yours, expect me to leave him?"

"You have a duty to this place," Tsukishima said, blandly.

"I have a duty to _him,"_ Kageyama growled.

"Which is why—" Tsukishima started to say, sounding furious. He paused, and for a long moment, neither spoke. Then Tsukishima said, "If you don't come back, I'm going to tell everyone what an enormous idiot you were."

The king's face split into a grin. "Since when do you care so much for duty, _Tsukki?"_

"Since I've been forced to watch you make a mess of it for so many years," Tsukishima replied. "Go. And don't come back with nothing to show for it."

"I won't," Kageyama replied grimly. He would make sure of that.

Even if all he managed to bring back was a body.

*

That had been many months ago. Many months since he'd last seen the fading silhouette of his castle in the distance, or the rolling green lands of Corvus. Months since he'd heard the voice of a friend, or felt the warmth of sunlight on his face. Months since he had stopped for rest.

Months since he'd slept. Months since he'd eaten or drank.

Months since he'd last been truly alive.

For now he had passed into the Realm of Shade, that let none who walked there truly live or die.

It was here that he would find Hinata, from here that Kageyama would save him. Provided, of course, he could find his own way back.

That possibility, though he would not yet admit it to himself, was growing increasingly slim. Day by day, he started to lose himself further—nightmares that clung to him even while he was awake. Memories that he was no longer sure were real. Sometimes they wove together, and he would drag himself through them, cutting great wide arcs through the visions with his sword. Roaring his defiance at ghosts and bleak nothingness, even as his voice grew harder and harder to force from his body.

All his thoughts were of Hinata. It was the only thing keeping him moving forward, even while the darkness tried its best to choke him. The memories were of Hinata, and the nightmares, too.

_The morning they'd met, a child prince and a street thief, Hinata with no idea whose gold he'd just pickpocketed._

_Sneaking beyond the kingdom's boundaries into the forests, learning the names of faerie princesses, Hinata bluntly turning down their marriage proposals. Kissing Kageyama for the first time in the tall grass by the Lake of Moonlight._

_His coronation ceremony. Knighting Hinata, and bowing his knee in turn, for Hinata to place the Crown of Crows upon his head._

But he was never allowed to remember the good for long. The memories always turned, twisted, and Hinata was snatched away from him, again, and again, different memories, but always the same moment. Always taken the same way.

_He turned to stare at Kageyama from the tower window of their bedroom, his eyes wide and pleading, one hand outstretched. Then the Shadow swallowed him whole, engulfed him silently and suddenly, and ripped him out of the world._

Kageyama lived this memory many, many times, and each time it became harder to bear.

And then, one time, the memory was not the same.

It began the same, in the room, the evening cool and mild, Hinata standing at the window, looking out. His back was to Kageyama, but any moment now, he would turn, would look at him with those golden eyes, before he was taken.

He didn't turn. Instead, he spoke.

"You've come far," he said.

Kageyama put a hand on his sword. "Who are you?"

"Hinata Shouyou. First Knight of the Kingdom of Corvus, Defender of the Throne, Consort to the King, Prince of Knaves, Ambassador to the Fae—"

"None of these titles belong to you," Kageyama said, drawing his sword. "You aren't Hinata."

The figure at the window turned, and the Shadow came from within him, instead of without. The face was Hinata's but his eyes were too bright, and too empty. Behind that gaze, darkness lay.

"Hinata… isn't… here now," he said, with an empty smile that showed too much teeth.

"You can't _have him,_ " Kageyama snarled. "I'm here to take him back." He should have despaired at seeing this thing in Hinata's body, but instead, he was elated. It had never shown itself before.

He was getting close.

Hinata's Shadow laughed, high-pitched and sharp. "That's ill advised."

"For you."

"And you." The figure shook its head. "Why would you throw away his sacrifice like this?"

"What are you talking about?" Kageyama snapped.

"You were given another chance, Kageyama," the Shadow said. "He saved you. You remember, don't you?"

Yes, Kageyama remembered. War was something he never forgot. The fire, the screams. The pain, falling into darkness.

And waking again, Hinata by his side, covered in blood and sweat, tears flowing freely. Whispering, _"It worked."_

It was he to whom Kageyama owed his life, though it had always belonged to Hinata long before that moment. And then, just one year later, he hadn't been able to save Hinata.

"Of course I remember," he spat.

"Then why would you want to take him away from me, and undo all of that?" the Shadow asked curiously, tilting its head. The gesture was so like Hinata, and yet so not—like a puppet with its strings being jerkily pulled. "I even gave you one more year together. I was _generous._ "

"You call this _generosity?_ " Kageyama shouted. "You take him from me and then tell me I should be grateful?!"

"Oh, no, no, you've got it all wrong!" the Shadow simpered, and the bedroom began to crumble around them, falling away into nothing. "I would never have _taken_ him from you, not the way you're trying to do to me."

"You _LIAR!_ _"_ Kageyama screamed.

He blinked, and in the darkness between closing and opening his eyelids, the Shadow was suddenly in his face, teeth bared like a rabid dog. Hinata's face, twisted in terrifying fury.

"I don't— _lie,_ " the Shadow told him. "You only hate the truth. Nothing was taken from you. Hinata _gave himself to me._ "

Kageyama shook his head. "That's not—you _are_ lying."

"You didn't _almost_ die upon that battlefield, King," Hinata's Shadow hissed. "You _did_ die. And _I_ brought you back, when he begged me."

For the first time since he had started walking, Kageyama stopped. Fell to his knees, as despair overtook him. Had he always known, yet refused to see it? Or was it just the way the dark revealed what was real, at last?"

"If you save him, you kill yourself," the Shadow said, caressing his face with fingers that were dry and cold. "And he wouldn't want that… he told me himself."

"I don't care!" Kageyama raged.

"Now, now…" the Shadow leaned into him, its voice tender, whispering its words across his lips. "Maybe you would feel different to hear it from your knight himself."

The Shadow's eyes flickered—and Hinata, the _real_ Hinata, looked out of his own face once more.

Kageyama drew in a shuddering gasp. "Sh—" He reached for Hinata. "Shouyou?"

Hinata clasped the king's face in his hands, eyes wild, but no longer empty. They were full, with fear, with desperation, with longing. "Kageyama. _Tobio._ Listen to me—turn back. Leave me here."

"I _won't,_ "Kageyama sobbed. "I can't."

"You _will,_ "Hinata commanded, and kissed him.

Kageyama clung to him, kissed back fiercely, and then suddenly Hinata was laughing, shrieking, and it was no longer him, but his Shadow. Kageyama thrust him away, sword drawn, slashing uselessly in great arcs. But the shadow was swirling, sucking Hinata's form into itself, covering him in darkness until only his face and golden eyes remained visible, as though all but that was nothing.

"There is no way to reclaim him," it whispered, fading. "Nothing except the greatest sacrifice will save him now. And even then, it will destroy you."

And it was gone.

Kageyama stared at the spot, blood rushing in his ears. Then the tired king picked up his sword, pulled himself to his feet, and began to walk again. 

He would sacrifice whatever it took, no matter the cost.

He would bring Hinata back.

 

* * *

 

A year and some odd months earlier—before death and the accursed demon—all was well. It was the eve of battle.

The noise of the feast was a dull roar to Hinata's ears. The trees of the forest swayed tall and black in the evening wind, the candlelight flickered yellow, and the wine was red as blood.

The men were in high spirits. This was good. A mere fortnight before battle, morale was everything. Weapons could be sharpened, armor mended, wounds treated. But if the spirit broke, what hope was left?

Hinata walked among them, the brightest of all in full regalia, armor shined and polished. The former prince of thieves bore the crest of the King of Corvus across his chest, emblazoned in ink black. A soaring crow.

He wore it proudly, yet he needed no identification. He may be smaller than most of the men he commanded, but no one had dared hold that against him in years, unless in jest. The lingering signs of his fae heritage (his height, his fine features, his golden eyes) no longer came first in their minds. They knew the heart that beat within his chest rivaled, and often surpassed, any of theirs.

He caught sight of a familiar face amongst the crowd, a head of flaxen hair that only came up to most men's chests, light armor over a mage's robes. Yachi saw him approaching and broke off from her conversation with some of the other mages to walk with him a ways.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"How do _you_ feel?" Hinata grinned. "I think that's what we should be most concerned with." His tone was light but he watched her intently. The seer shook her head.

"Uneasy," she replied. "But, I think that's to be expected. There's darkness ahead, but, there's conviction, too."

"Then that's all we can ask for," Hinata said. "You've done more than enough for us these past few months. You shouldn't have come this far, I know war makes you…"

Yachi smiled at him. "It doesn't matter what it makes me. I'm here for you. And I'm here for him." She nodded her head toward the banquet tables. "We all are. And I think you've done enough seeing to your soldiers."

Hinata looked where she was looking, toward the head of the table. He found himself looking into a pair of dark blue eyes that watched only him, never wavering.

"I think you're right," Hinata said.

He bid Yachi farewell, making his way toward the king, still taking his time, stopping to greet all those who hailed him. But eventually, he found himself at the king's right hand, where a seat had been left open, saved for him. The space he would always fill. He took it.

Unlike the rest of his regiments, Kageyama of Corvus wore no armor, and his clothes were simple. A reminder to the other men that when he fought with them, he did so not as a king, but as their equal, leading from the front of the charge. As much as he outranked them in position and skill, he might still die the same as any of them.

Kageyama tapped the tabletop, before leaning back to look at his knight.

"Yes?" Hinata asked, cheekily.

"You've been busy, tonight," Kageyama observed.

"I've been bolstering the troops," Hinata said. "Spreading good cheer, instilling courage—that sort of thing."

"Yes, you're very good at that," Kageyama said.

"One of us has to be."

Kageyama's lips twitched. "Insolent."

Hinata smirked outright. "You love it."

"I do," Kageyama agreed. He swirled his wine in his goblet, contemplative, before raising his eyes to Hinata's. "Maybe even moreso when we're alone."

Hinata's skin sparked hot. He only ever felt this way about three things in life.

The first: the beginnings of a new quest.

The second: the rush of battle.

The third: Kageyama, when he watched Hinata like this.

Hinata reached out, curled his fingers around the goblet in Kageyama's hand, brought it to his mouth to drink. Kageyama's fingers were warm under his own, and his eyes never once left Hinata's.

He lowered the cup from his lips and Kageyama raised his other hand, brushed the wine from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and Hinata turned his head, quick, and nipped at his skin. Reminding the king who he belonged to.

"Tonight, we'll be alone," Hinata said, as if Kageyama wasn't already aware. After tonight, the long march would begin, and they would have no time for things like this, until the fighting was done.

"Tonight…" Kageyama mused. Suddenly, he stood from the table, pushing his chair back. "Follow."

Hinata raised an eyebrow, but did as asked, rising from the table. "Where?"

"Tonight is starting now," Kageyama said. Hinata laughed.

"Impatient, aren't you?" he teased.

Kageyama didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Hinata paused and blinked, before he darted forward, smiling broadly. "Your _Majesty!"_

The king put a hand on top of his head, ruffling his hair vigorously, before slinging an arm over his shoulders. "Quiet."

"Am I to be debauched during a feast in your honor?" Hinata asked him gleefully.

"You're going to be more than just debauched if you don't hold your tongue."

The king's tent wasn't much larger or more extravagant than the rest, but it had been placed farther from the main encampment out of respect, and to give the royal party some sense of privacy. This was where they went, and where they wasted none of the time they had left.

Hinata could feel eyes on him again, as he methodically removed his armor, placing it neatly upon the ground. Then he set about removing his undershirts as well, everything he wore, until at last he stood with nothing but the light from the torches on his skin.

He turned to face Kageyama, who was sitting on the bedding that had been set up on the floor—on his knees, hands resting lightly on top of his thighs. Hinata approached him, and he finally looked away, lowering his head, eyes downcast. Hinata's heart pounded in his chest.

He put his hand out to lift the king's chin. Kageyama met his eyes, wetting his lips with his tongue.

Hinata fell upon him, suddenly desperate. Kageyama barely had time to steady himself before Hinata had found his mouth with his own, lips hungry, kiss messy and harsh. He clung when Kageyama dragged him in closer, arms around him, holding tight.

"You're worried," Kageyama whispered.

"I'm—" Hinata paused. He ran his hands through Kageyama's dark hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. "You're keeping the third regiment with you but not mine."

"Because you'll do far more on your own than anyone else could," Kageyama told him. It was the truth, and Hinata nodded, acquiescent for now. Kageyama shifted, and Hinata found their positions reversing, as he was laid back against the bedding. "And then after…" Kageyama slid close above him, fingers trailing over Hinata's bare skin. "After you've claimed glory for yourself, and victory for me…"

Hinata let his fears go, then, let them run back to the darkness. They couldn't hold him, not when Kageyama looked at him like this. Eyes like midnight, with no trace of doubt that Hinata would deliver unto the kingdom triumph.

"What happens after?" he asked, even though he knew, his entire body knew, was already responding.

"I will reward you," Kageyama whispered, voice low, as he ducked his head to graze his teeth over Hinata's ear. "Lavishly." Slid his hand over Hinata's knee and thigh, spreading his legs apart. "Abundantly." A slow roll and grind of his hips and Hinata was pushing up into him, heat flooding him, dizzying him. Kageyama's voice was breathless, rough, when he completed his promise. "I will honor you as only a king could."

"And tonight?" Hinata gasped, as Kageyama rocked against him with a low groan, like he was moments away from losing control. King's duty forgotten, all of him focused on the way they moved together—Hinata wanted to make him give in.

But Kageyama, as brash and headstrong and foolhardy as he could sometimes be, wasn't a king for nothing. He stilled over Hinata, who put a hand at the back of his neck, a silent plea. Kageyama touched their lips together, not quite a kiss.

"Tonight, a taste," he said, a little bit of the teasing back in his voice.

Hinata moaned, half in annoyance. "Kageyama…"

"That's no way to address your king," Kageyama said, lifting himself off Hinata to move lower down his body.

"Your Majesty—"

"Better."

"—you're an _enormous_ prick."

Kageyama looked up at him from his position distractingly near Hinata's hardening cock. When he spoke, Hinata could feel it on his skin. "Keep talking, and I'm going to lessen that reward."

Hinata grinned down at him. "Not this part, though. This is your favorite part."

"So certain," Kageyama hummed, even as he leaned forward to flatten his tongue against the base of Hinata's cock, licking him all the way up to the tip.

"So _certain,"_ Hinata repeated, sliding a hand into Kageyama's dark hair to fist tightly in the soft strands. His grin melted off his face, moans falling long and soft as Kageyama worked, tongue and lips and the barest hint of teeth, and dark eyes raised to gaze into Hinata's, a constant reminder that even like this, there was no more worthy a king than he was. And oh, how well Hinata knew this, how deserving this man was of his unshakeable loyalty.

Kageyama gave him more than just a taste, much more. Neither of them could hold back, not when they were at war, not when they would go to battle in just a few days' time. There was no sense in holding back.

He turned Hinata over, pulled him up on his hands and knees, opened him with his long fingers, the sword callouses on his fingertips making Hinata writhe and demand more when Kageyama rubbed against his entrance deliberately slow. Hinata had the feel of each of them memorized, knew his pointer finger from the middle from the ring, whether they were inside him or out.

They moved together, skin on skin, naked in the firelight—Kageyama taking him from behind, filling him, leaning over him. Pinning Hinata's hands to the bedding above his head as Hinata snatched the sheets between his teeth and moaned into them until he was hoarse and his throat felt raw.

When he finally went quiet, Kageyama pulled him over onto his side, lying flush against his back. He pushed Hinata's leg up to his chest and entered him again, fucking him hard, desperate, his breathing coming fast and heavy. Hinata groaned, barely able to make much more sound than that, with how fiercely Kageyama was pounding into him. With difficulty, he pushed himself up onto his forearms, turning so he could face Kageyama. The other man immediately captured his mouth in a bruising kiss.

"Tobio," Hinata gasped, when the king broke the kiss to drag his hips closer, hitting him deep and perfect and mind-blowingly _fulfilling._ "I'm right here. No matter where you send me—"

"I know," Kageyama breathed.

"I swore on my life," Hinata reminded him, squeezing his eyes shut as Kageyama brushed his hand over his cheek and down over his chest, over his stomach and lower, knuckles brushing along the head of his cock. Hinata jerked, moaning out as Kageyama closed his hand around him, bringing him off in time with his thrusts. "I s-swore I would—keep you safe—"

"Just come back to my side," Kageyama whispered.

"I always will," Hinata promised, not for the first time, not for the last. Kageyama kissed him again, and again, until he had to bury his face in Hinata's neck while Hinata held him close, reaching back to stroke his hair as he came. Hinata followed him over the edge not long after.

They lay afterwards intertwined, one of Hinata's legs pushed between Kageyama's much longer ones, the other on top. Kissing slow and talking softly, fingers brushing.

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm not there," Hinata murmured, tracing over Kageyama's forehead and nose and cheeks with his finger.

Kageyama's soft snort ruffled the hair that fell over Hinata's forehead. "As if you wouldn't be attempting to do the same stupid thing."

"Yeah," Hinata agreed. "But at least I'd be there to look out for you."

"You're always saying that," Kageyama said, with his characteristic frown. "I look after you, too."

"It's not a competition," Hinata said, laughing even as he said it. Everything was, to them. He tugged Kageyama closer to kiss him again. "We look after each other."

"Mmm," Kageyama murmured, seeming content with that, and the kiss, that lingered, and multipled, each successive one longer and sweeter than the last.

Hinata would wonder, later, if those touches, that time, would have been any more bitter or agonizing, if he'd known better. If he'd truly understood that kings were still men, and mortal. But in the end, he thought it would have played out just the same. After all, no matter what happened, he would ensure Kageyama's safety.

No matter the price he had to pay.

 

* * *

 

When the battle was finally over—when smoke finally began to rise from the ashes, and the mage-fire gouging the land in multicolored flames finally burned low, Hinata laid down his sword.

When the knight wiped his brow, his hand came away red with more blood than sweat. A sudden surge of exhaustion and nausea overtook him. Not only due to loss of blood, but loss of everything else. His friends, his comrades. Among the fires, so many men and women who would never rise again.

But they had won.

The sudden realization overcame him. He plunged his sword tip deep into the charred earth at his feet, and screamed, head thrown back, roaring to the sky. _They had victory._

Something tugged at his heart and he put a hand to his chest, sucking air into his lungs. The feeling continued and he focused on it, realized it came from outside himself, a call from another source. He forced himself to calm, to listen.

_Hinata._

The voice within him was faint, tired. He recognized it.

“Yamaguchi?” Relief flooded him, to hear the mage was alive.

 _Hinata,_ the voice said again, and Hinata’s heart froze around it. He could hear it, in the way Yamaguchi’s voice wavered. The one thing he feared more than anything.

 _Come find us,_ Yamaguchi told him, and Hinata moved with all haste, abandoning the remnants of the battlefield.

But he knew it did not matter.

*

Yachi held his body.

It should have looked strange. The tiny seer cradling the tall, strong king in her lap like a baby, like he was only sleeping. They were surrounded by the dead on all sides, soldiers cut down, mainly the enemy.

Somehow it did not look strange. It looked horribly familiar – maybe because it was the image Hinata had seen in his nightmares so many times, when he woke in bed a cold sweat.

All those times, a hand would find his own, warm, pulling him into a comforting embrace, like there was nothing to be worried about, nothing ever to fear. But that could not happen, this time.

It was his nightmare because he was never there to stop it, when it happened. He was trapped in it now—but from this dream, he couldn’t wake.

Hinata fell to his knees on the ground next to Yachi. She wasn’t crying—from the look in her eyes, she had nothing left in her to cry. Yamaguchi stood over them both. Some ways away, Tsukishima sat in the dirt, his back to the group. None of them looked at Hinata.

“How?” Hinata asked. “ _How_?”

Yachi gasped when she first attempted to speak. Her voice sounded raw, when finally she did. “It was our fault.”

Hinata stared at her. “Hitoka.”

“They broke our front lines,” she continued. “They would have killed the three of us. There were… so _many_.”

Hinata’s blood ran cold. He and Kageyama were fighters, but these three—a mage, a seer, an advisor. They would have been butchered—or, no, he realized. Captured and tortured for information, as the king’s closest confidants. That must have been what the enemy was planning.

“He came back,” Yamaguchi said. “He came back for us and we—we managed to hold them off. But he had to fight through their entire main division to get here, and none of us realized he was already hurt… he was already—”

Hinata looked down at Kageyama’s face, still and peaceful. Of course he would look that way. He had saved his friends. An entire kingdom to rule and he’d always managed to put them first.

“I’m so sorry,” Yachi said, her head bowed low. “Shouyou, I’m so, so—”

He reached out, touched his filthy, bloody hand to her cheek. She looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

“It is _not_ your fault,” he said. “He would have come back for me. He would have come back if you and he had never known each other. Because that's—” His voice finally broke, any and all of his fading bravery cracking away, falling into the mud. “That’s who he _was.”_

“He was a _fool,_ " Tsukishima spat, without turning around.

“ _Kei—”_ Yamaguchi started to say.

“Not fit to be a king of anything, with that mindset,” the other man continued. “Pathetic, obstinate, thick-headed—”

“That’s _enough_ ,” Yamaguchi said, sounding furious, the note of anger in his voice rare.

“He’s right,” Hinata choked out, and even Yachi looked up at him in surprise. “He was a fool. And it was my responsibility to keep him safe.”

“ _Our_ responsibility,” Tsukishima growled. “Don’t act like you were the only one who—” He cut off, because even though he brandished disrespect, even though he wielded his harsh words like a weapon, Hinata was far from the only person who cared about Kageyama.

“You already did that,” Hinata said. “But that task falls to me in battle and…”

And he had failed.

“We won,” he whispered. “It was supposed to be over.” He put his hand over the crow on Kageyama’s chestplate, the lines still strong and bold, though they were now streaked with dirt. “We won. It should be over—”

Water began to fall onto the burnished metal of Kageyama’s armor, and at first Hinata thought it to be rain, before he realized he was crying. He put his hands under Kageyama’s arms, lifted him up despite how heavy the king was in his armor—Hinata had always been strong, strongest when Kageyama needed him.

He pulled Kageyama to his chest and held him there, tightly, and wept, his body trembling with sobs. Kageyama was heavy against him, but Hinata only felt the weight of his silence.

“Kageyama, it’s over,” he said into the quiet. “You won. You—”

But Kageyama wasn’t moving. He wasn’t moving.

“Tobio, please—” Hinata whispered. “ _Please,_ don’t do this. Don't—” He pressed his face against Kageyama’s cheek, but it was cold. “Don’t leave.” His voice sounded pathetically high and fragile, even to his own ears.

He almost couldn’t believe Kageyama wouldn’t wake. Wouldn’t suddenly wrap him up in his arms, and make fun of his knight for crying over silly things, lips trailing kisses through his hair, “Dead? Me? Nothing could ever kill _me.”_

They used to say these things as children. But not now.

A hand on his shoulder startled him—Yachi. Hinata clenched his teeth, eyes squeezed shut—but the tears would not stop. One of his hands found it’s way to thread through Kageyama’s hair, cradling the back of his head.

“I wasn’t there.” His voice was dull, soft, whisked away on the breeze that stank of death.

“You can’t blame yourself,” Yachi said, instantly. Even though she was so ready for the fault to fall on her shoulders. Even though she had been there. She had been with Kageyama, when he died.

Hinata laid Kageyama gently back against the cold ground. He kissed both his cheeks, and then pressed his lips to the king’s for one long moment.

His heart felt shattered. Not just broken but picked apart, piece by piece, until it lay in so many tiny fragments that it could never again be made whole. Not without Kageyama there to mend it.

 _This is your fault,_ something whispered to him. _He is dead because you failed him._

“I know,” Hinata whispered, as his horror grew, and grew.

This could not be how Kageyama’s life ended.

*

When they were young, and no one was yet aware of the nature of even their friendship, when no one knew the young prince of Corvus would venture far from his warm castle bed in the summer nights, to rabblerouse with thieves and beggars, count the stars with the faeries—when they were young, Hinata had refused to tell Kageyama he loved him.

It was some stupid notion he’d had, that Kageyama, of the noblest birth and blood, would tire of him upon hearing it said. He was certain the wonder Kageyama felt at being taken in by his gang of knaves would fade if he were to lay himself so openly bare, though it had always been his nature to do so. He loved freely, and he loved Kageyama, but because of that he was afraid to lose him, more than anything in the world.

They were still children the first time he kissed Kageyama, and he still remembered the way the grass cushioned them where they lay, waving tall above their heads as they looked up at the night sky. Kageyama looked so young in his memory, now, all round eyes and soft cheeks, an innocence that hadn’t been lost so much as worn away with time and title. The transition from boyish prince to ruling king.

His eyes had shined brighter than the heavens, after Hinata had kissed him. Through the years, that would always stay the same.

In his memory, Kageyama’s hand was warm in his as they lay there, looking up. In his memory, his fingers and palms were soft, smooth.

This was the same memory as always—but then he felt the callouses. The ones he had come to know just as well as the softness. Hinata blinked, and turned his head, and when he did he was looking into the eyes of a man, and not a boy. This was Kageyama, the king, lying beside him.

Hinata’s throat swelled closed, and his eyes swam, and he reached out, looping his arm around Kageyama’s strong frame.

Sometimes, the fae received dreams that were not dreams, but blessings. Even if his blood was mixed, this privilege was granted to him, too.

But Kageyama did not answer him, did not return his embrace, and when Hinata pulled away, his eyes were still dark. Too dark. There was no starshine there.

“I’m sorry,” Hinata said.

But something told him, _That will not bring him back._

Hinata stared into the king’s dark, dark eyes. “What will?”

_Blood for blood._

Sometimes, the fae received dreams that were not dreams, but bargains. Opportunities.

Curses.

“My blood is strong,” Hinata said to Kageyama. Though other men used to try to say it was tainted, dirty. He knew his worth.

_Yes. And you are valuable. But he is dead._

“A life for a life, then?” Hinata asked, putting out his hand to caress Kageyama’s cheek. It was still cold, and Kageyama did not blink, only continued to watch him with eyes black as bottomless pools, sucking him into the unknown depths.

_Would you give it so freely?_

“For him?” Hinata laughed. “Yes. Take anything. Take all of me. Bring him back in my place.”

Stupid. Kageyama would hate him for this. He didn’t care.

_You will cause him more pain than dying. Exchange your grief for his._

“Pain means you’re breathing,” Hinata says. “Only… can I stay with him a little longer?”

There’s a laugh in the voice when it responds. _So greedy. A life plus time? I will give you a year. And then you are mine._

Hinata shivered. A year was hardly anything. But when compared to nothing…

“Then I am yours,” he agreed, as he leaned forward and kissed Kageyama’s cold lips.

He awoke with a gasp. He’d fallen asleep, at the king’s bedside—his death bed. They were alone in the tent, after he’d sent the others away. Suddenly dizzy, he fell forward, bracing his hands against the floor.

And someone else’s hand closed around his arm, large and strong, and he jolted, looking up.

Kageyama sat up in bed, watching him with great concern.

“It worked,” Hinata whispered, the words escaping without his permission, so great was his shock. His eyes pricked hot and then welled over, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Hinata?” Kageyama asked, his voice a dry rasp. “What worked? Are you alright? Did we—the battle—”

Hinata leapt, flung his arms around the king. “You came back.”

“What?” Kageyama asked, sounding alarmed.

“Nothing,” Hinata said, pulling away to hold Kageyama’s face in his hands. He was _warm._ “Nothing,” he repeated, as he broke into a blinding smile. “We won.”

He would deal with explanations later. The year had already started, and he wanted to spend it showing Kageyama how much he loved him.

 

* * *

 

When Kageyama was nine years old, Hinata had tried to kill him.

At the time, Hinata had, firstly, not recognized him, and secondly, only noticed the insignia of the royal family sewn onto his clothes. The latter was a death wish, when worn in the underground labyrinth of ill repute that existed below the shining realm of Corvus above, the despicable city of thieves, the Kingdom of Crows.

But Kageyama hadn’t known that, at his tender age. He knew nothing of the world at large, only knew that somewhere, in this dark and twisty maze of gutters and alleys and shadowed doorways, was a friend.

Imagine his surprise, then, when he’d ended up flat on his back with two daggers crossing blades under his chin, held by a tiny boy, the very one he’d been seeking.

Hinata was not a prince of this hidden city, yet, not even a sly gleam in the eye of the current lord all thieves bowed their heads to. He was smaller than most of the already malnourished inhabitants in the underground, and he wasn’t nearly as cunning nor as clever as the rest of them.

But he was brave. He had heart. And he was very, very quick on his feet.

He had been nearly about to slit Kageyama’s throat, maybe the first time blood had ever wet those tiny hands, the fire in his eyes burning bright. Kageyama would never forget that flame. He would carry it with him, to remind him of the souls of the people, what he could become to them if he failed.

It was the kind of fury that is born not only from personal offense, but out of ideals, out of oppression and hunger and fear. All directed toward a symbol, a far off idea rather than a man, the throne.

_Death to kings, and all they have begotten._

“Sh-Shouyou?” Kageyama had stuttered, not even sure this wild-eyed creature was the boy he’d met a year ago, but then Hinata had dropped his weapons.

“Tobio?” he’d whispered. “Why are you wearing… _that?”_

And it was, perhaps, here—that their long journey had truly begun.

*

Hinata was still quick on his feet. But as he’d grown older, he had added to his arsenal many more weapons beyond his knives, with which he was very skilled. There was the staff, to lengthen his short reach; the bow, for the times he wanted to remain unseen; and his favorite, the sword—when there was a fight he could not afford to lose.

They had clashed blades often over the years, he and Kageyama. Kageyama only used the sword, but his mastery with it was unparalleled, and as he trained in the castle, he had brought what he learned to the underground kingdom and to Hinata, whose own skills grew and flourished. In their youth, he had been endlessly frustrated with his inability to overcome Kageyama when they practiced.

But now, he seemed likely to win this last fight.

Or more correctly, the demon inside him would emerge victorious.

For the first time in too many years to count, perhaps more years than man or demon could fathom, the Realm of Shade had light. The sky flashed with lightning, not striking from above but arcing up from below. It forged through the blackness and shadow, sharp and piercing. A battle was underway.

Swords met, clanged and clashed, and the sound the impact made was the thunder that rolled after each new bolt of lightning seared the air. The sparks were flung off the blades, crackling, vicious. But the darkness rushed back in almost as soon as it was cast out.

Kageyama’s arms shook under the weight of each blow, his body worn, tired, fatigued. For days he had been fighting. His strength would not last much longer. But his will was even stronger, and that, at least, would never give out.

He had pushed through to the demon’s heart, where it beat amongst the shadows, not a physical location but a place comprised of deepest regrets, darkest fears. Even in the face of them, the king had not turned back, and now he found himself in the very center of the nightmare. And the demon was there.

It still held Hinata’s form, held his sword in hand, but Kageyama could see clearly that it was not him, no matter how identical. There was just too much wrongness, in the eyes and slant of the mouth, too much empty space where once there had been overflowing laughter and life.

“You fool,” it snarled. “I will destroy you, no matter how much he begs.”

But through its frothing anger, Kageyama could see the fear. And that gave him hope.

It was a hope he clung to now, battered, broken, nearly defeated. The demon had all Hinata’s strength and skills plus its own, and it struck at him relentlessly, never once letting up its attack, not even for a second.

“You are weakened,” the demon snarled at him, as he blocked its blow. “You are finished. You have already lost him, and now your own life, too, will become mine.”

“Then we will fight you from within,” Kageyama shouted, and it laughed.

“Yes, yes, an eternal stretch of torment, trapped within my grasp…” It gave a thoughtful rumble, even as it beat at him again with Hinata’s blade. “Perhaps I will assume your form next. Perhaps I shall return to your precious Corvus… and determine how comfortable its throne…”

Kageyama snarled. “My friends would _know_.”

The demon inside Hinata smiled, twisting the young knight’s face into a grinning facade. “That won’t help them if they are dead.”

The force behind Kageyama’s next strike must have surprised it, especially now with his strength so depleted. With a roar of anger, he charged, hammering the demon with blow after blow, driving it back. But he had never been good at showing restraint when the people closest to him were threatened, and this looked to be his downfall, as he used up the last of his strength in this final onslaught.

The demon struck and the king’s sword was flung from his hand, disappearing into the darkness. Now assured of its triumph, the demon stalked closer to him, darkness gathering at its feet, its lips stretched into a grin. It was still small, in Hinata’s body, but one thrust of the blade and this would all be over.

Kageyama had failed.

“Hinata,” he said, steadily. He refused to let his voice shake, to let it be tired. “Hinata, I know you can hear me.”

“He can,” said the demon. “He’s screaming, right in here.” It tapped the side of its head.

“Do you remember,” Kageyama said, “what I promised you, the day I became king?” The same day Hinata had been knighted, the same day they had sworn their lives to each other. He knew Hinata remembered. “I promised you I would do anything to keep you safe, and I meant it!”

“ _No, no, Tobio,_ ” the demon jeered. “ _This isn’t what I wanted._ ”

“I know it’s not!” Kageyama shouted, knowing that those were Hinata’s true thoughts, mockery or not. “And I’m sorry! But I can’t break that promise and go on living myself.”

“Luckily,” the demon said, as it lifted Hinata’s sword, “you won’t have to.”

It lunged forward, thrust the blade, buried it to the hilt into Kageyama’s stomach. And then he felt pain, but also a memory—yes, he had died before. Much like this. And yes, it had been Hinata who saved him. Hinata, whose face was all he could see, now—Hinata as a child, snot-nosed and covered in dirt; Hinata as a boy, the newly made prince of thieves; Hinata as a young man, a champion in the royal arena.

Hinata now, the mirage of the strongest knight flickering over the demonic mask, the two interchanging, good and evil, light and dark.

Weakly, he closed his hands over Hinata’s sword-hilt, so the demon could not free it from his body, not until he drew his last breath.

“I find it hard to believe you truly loved him,” the demon jeered, a soft whisper. “You will die in some sense fulfilled, while leaving him to suffer eternally, having failed you—a true king unto the end.”

“You are a demon,” Kageyama said, and he could hear his breath rattle, his words damp with blood. “You do not understand sacrifice.”

“Neither do you,” it retorted, pushing its face nearer to his, leaning in close. “It was _you_ who could not make the greatest—”

The demon choked off with a quiet gasp. It stared at Kageyama for a long moment, seemingly bewildered, before it turned its gaze downward, slowly.

“I _promised,_ " Kageyama said. “I promised I’d do anything. This is… the greatest sacrifice… I could ever make.”

And he wrenched the small, sharp dagger free from where he’d thrust it into Hinata’s mortal heart, to let the wound bleed freely.

The demon staggered back, raising Hinata’s hands to press against the wound, but they were soon covered, drenched in red. Normally the fatal strike would have been laughable to it, a weak and pathetic attempt at nothing.

But here, deep within the darkness, inside the demon’s own monstrous heart, the king had struck true.

“You… foolish king…” the demon choked as the body it had stolen died—even its dark magic could not save Hinata from this fate.

Kageyama sank to his knees. He gripped Hinata’s sword and dragged it forth from his body, crying out in pain. He did not fling the weapon aside. Instead, as he finally staggered and fell, meeting the ground with a jolt, he laid it next to him.

The demon collapsed at his side, but it was already fading. Kageyama reached out, touched Hinata’s face, held his hand there as the last of the shadows fled from his eyes. When they had all gone, Hinata’s eyes remained open and wide—and still empty. A different kind of nothingness.

But they were his again.

Kageyama closed them, as his own vision began to go dark. He stroked his fingers over Hinata’s cheek, until that became too hard to do.

“I told you,” he whispered. “I told you, stupid. You’re safe, now.”

His fatigue overcame him. But his wound no longer pained him and he could finally rest. The darkness around him no longer held nightmares, but a peaceful, much needed sleep. Slowly, so he could look at Hinata’s face, just a little longer, he closed his eyes.

Right before they shut, he thought he saw…

…the faintest trace of gold.

 

* * *

 

For one year, Tsukishima had awoken. Had gone to the throne room. Had performed his duties as advisor and Regent of Corvus, in Kageyama’s absence. The crops still grew and the water still flowed and the people, though they knew not what had happened nor where their king had gone, still lived their lives.

And Tsukishima would make sure all these things remained as they were, even as his own frustration grew, and grew, until it overtook him and he was left numb, to wake and serve and sleep, and repeat again the next day. All days the same. Never changing.

Until one day, change blossomed once more.

“My lord!”

The shout came early in the morning, just before daybreak, and Tsukishima looked up from his finance papers, irritable. He hated a commotion in the mornings.

“What is it?” he asked of the servant.

“We don't—my lord, we aren’t sure! But we need you to see, we need you to come and see—!”

Feeling absolutely put out, he dressed, and made his way out to the drawbridge over the lake, for whatever they wanted him to see was approaching from that direction. As he entered the courtyard, he noticed Yachi and Yamaguchi had already been summoned, which deepened his annoyance.

The bridge was lowered, and they went to stand at the opening, and then, they saw.

Yachi grasped at his arm. “ _Kei._ ”

Yamaguchi had put a hand against the wall next to him, his whole body swaying. “It can’t be… after all this time, it…”

Tsukishima didn’t speak. Instead, he crossed the bridge. And like a flowing tide, Yachi and Yamaguchi came behind him, and then the knights followed, and the other inhabitants of the castle, until they were standing on the other side of the lake, on its banks, and facing two figures whose faces had not, in all that time, been forgotten.

They were thinner, their hair was long, their clothing ragged. They could have been beggars—and perhaps, once, they might have considered themselves such. If only to fit in.

But now, the only thing Tsukishima cared for was the fact that they were alive. Alive, fingers laced together as though they never had and never would let go, and souls behind their eyes entirely their own.

“I did tell you I wouldn’t abandon you,” said Kageyama, the king, and a slow smile spread over his face.

“You do seem to be more or less alive,” Tsukishima said coolly. “This time.”

“And I brought back something to show for all my efforts,” Kageyama said, nodding at the smaller man at his side.

Hinata had barely started in on a grin when Tsukishima bent down to his height.

“ _You,_ ” he hissed, and Hinata’s smile faded rapidly. “Have you any idea how much trouble you’ve caused me? Don’t think I’m happy enough about your return that I’m likely to forget that little detail.”

Hinata blinked at him, and then rubbed the back of his head. “Alright, but—you _are_ happy to see me.”

Tsukishima straightened. Without responding, he turned on his heel, and began to march back inside.

“Tidy the king’s chambers,” he snapped out to the servants. “And prepare for a feast. Have messengers deliver the news to all the listed towns.”

“I think he’s going to miss giving all these orders,” Kageyama muttered very loudly to Hinata from behind his hand.

Tsukishima threw a glance over his shoulder. “Our king, _at long last,_ has returned.”

Kageyama inclined his head, but it was his eyes that conveyed the depth of his gratitude. Then Hinata reached out to the king, pulled him close, his hands against Kageyama's face. Tsukishima looked away only after their lips met, and the grey, heavy weight lifted, at long last, from his shoulders.

And a great cheer went up from the castle ramparts, to carry out across the entire land.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been settling scores, I’ve been fighting so long  
> But I’ve lost your war, And our kingdom is gone  
> [How shall I win back, Your heart which was mine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWS9D8Z0mpc)  
> I have broken bones and tattered clothes  
> I’ve run out of time 
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you @12khetaloid for finding that beautiful song~
> 
> Anything else I write for this verse will go into a collection instead of a series (because stories will not be sequential)! In light of that, if you'd like to keep an eye out for more, please consider subscribing directly to [my author page](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/profile) instead of this work! 
> 
> [I'm [@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


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